Rachel Shukert is mighty, and she smashes those who stand before her, especially those who disagree with her Scrabble ideals.
The Holy Father is not well
His mouth moves wanly through his futile vespers;
Nay—it moves not for
God’s Only Messenger on Earth has lost the gift of speech.
Shit happens, says my mother as she chews her pickled whitefish.
Between you and me
I’ve always felt a little Catholic
But it’s springtime now
And mostly I just feel horny.
The Pope is dead.
In order to be dead,
The Pope must die
Thus fulfilling the Weinstein prophecy.
The Pope is dead.
With Easter past,
Jesus has selfishly eaten the last of the Peeps.
But still He throws wide the door to His house.
Soon the smoky mists of the Papal Conclave will reveal
God’s Newest Only Messenger on Earth
The agents of the Lord do not give up their secrets easily; but one thing is certain
He won’t be a Jew
Or probably, an Arab.
April Third (for Andy Horwitz)
A good thing to do
If you’re having a big party
Like a Bar Mitzvah or a wedding
Is to take a watermelon
Scoop out melon part
And fill the rind with ground beef.
Then take little bits of sausage cut up small
And have them be the seeds.
Voila! You got yourself
Whatever you want to call it
It’s some damn fine eating.
One must think of something on the subway, mustn’t one?
Alls I know is
If I was assaulted right now and rushed to the hospital
Here are the things they would find on my person.Three pictures of the Pope, one laminated, two not
Angel wings and Halo costume set. Fake dog shit. A Black baby doll. A package of Washable markers. Flexible plastic tubing
A tiny lion wearing a crown. A small container of cottage cheese. Oh, plus
I’m not wearing any underwear.
And neither is that guy over there
The one with the garbage bag on his head.